


do you not think so far ahead? (i’ve been thinking about forever)

by perfunit



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Birthday, Childhood Friends, Coming of Age, Feelings Realization, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Past relationships briefly mentioned, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:48:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29609652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfunit/pseuds/perfunit
Summary: “Soulmate,” said Hansol, enunciating the syllables slowly. Seokmin blinked up at him in wonder, the foreign phonemes sounding unfamiliar but so right to his unversed ears.“It’s when you’re made for each other,” Hansol explained.-There is no way to prove, empirically, that anyone is your soulmate. Seokmin and Hansol don’t try. They just are. Like the wave is drawn by the moon, and the sunflower faces the sun, sure and right — they are.
Relationships: Chwe Hansol | Vernon/Lee Seokmin | DK
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	do you not think so far ahead? (i’ve been thinking about forever)

**Author's Note:**

> \- I’m late and am almost completely sure I've forgotten how to write but I was simply OVERCOME, so have a little thingy for 218 bros! I adore them both v much & their relationship is one of the sweetest ever imo ;~; hope you like it!  
> \- title from thinking bout you by frank ocean  
> \- (another title I was considering was "sweet 16, how was i supposed to know anything?" from white ferrari)  
> \- belated happy birthday to Seokmin and Vernon!

**_February 18 — Seokmin’s 7th / Hansol’s 6th_ **

Hansol moved next door when he was five, and the first birthday of his life — that he could remember, at least — happened over at the Lees when he turned six. Kids from all around the neighborhood came, and all these mini people gathered around in a circle of balloons and confetti. Seokmin and Hansol had special party hats that made them stand out, one blue and one green.

Seokmin remembered that it was fun. There were cupcakes and games. Seokmin was pretty good at the sack race. They still lost, though, because he’d waited for Hansol to catch up to him right before the finish line. It was the after that was most memorable, anyway.

The after. When the grass was cleared of confetti, and the tables were all folded. It was just Seokmin’s parents and sisters and Hansol’s, all munching on some leftover pizza. Seokmin’s parents had taken turns playing some old music on the stereo, and Hansol’s mother had taken both Seokmin and Hansol’s little hands into her own and danced with them both. 

At night, Seokmin and Hansol climbed onto the swings by the ivy, idly dangling under the starry sky as if the bodies above had specially drawn their strings and set them there.

* * *

**_February 18 — Seokmin’s 12th / Hansol’s 11th_ **

“Soulmate,” said Hansol, enunciating the syllables slowly. Seokmin blinked up at him in wonder, the foreign phonemes sounding unfamiliar but so right to his unversed ears.

“It’s when you’re made for each other,” Hansol explained.

Seokmin and Hansol were lying on their fronts under Hansol’s duvet, glow-in-the-dark stars and UFO silhouettes overhead. They went on a car ride back home after an eventful day in an amusement park. The winter weather proved quite the challenge as they navigated the park, but they were far too giddy to let it truly bother them. Hansol, in particular, was very excited to ride the roller coaster — Seokmin not so much. He’d have felt ashamed by just how _frightened_ he was, given he was the older one between them. Early on in their lives, however, they had naturally rid themselves of that kind of restrictive, un-Seokmin, un-Hansol, un-Seokmin-AND-Hansol pressure. And, in any case, Hansol held his hand through it.

That night, Seokmin was over at Hansol’s, having secured his parents’ permission to sleep over. Before going to bed, they watched a short film about soulmates — well, okay, Seokmin wasn’t entirely sure if the _whole_ thing was about soulmates. There were no subtitles available yet. The concept stood out to him, though.

Counting the hours left to their special day, Seokmin wondered if there truly was such a thing. Soulmates. 

If there was, he thought, he wished his was Hansol.

* * *

**_February 18 — Seokmin’s 15th / Hansol’s 14th_ **

The last time Seokmin was _this_ nervous was when he had to sing the national anthem for a school event when he was ten. He had half the mind to run away then, and sort of still did now. It didn’t help that he’d sorely underestimated how many people would be interested in the middle school archery finals. Which just _happened_ to be scheduled on his birthday.

And the finalists? Just _happened_ to include him and Hansol.

“I guess we’re destined,” Hansol had told him when they stepped up to the middle of the stadium for their turn. His brown eyes crinkled, his teeth set into a wide grin. It was familiar. It soothed Seokmin’s nerves just a little. He could imagine it was just them. Just Seokmin and Hansol.

In the end, Hansol shot a 10-10-9, and Seokmin shot all 10s. Hansol had rushed over a beat or two after the arrowhead met the center of the target. He tiptoed as he hugged Seokmin, a whole head smaller than Seokmin at the time. He’d been so happy. Like he’d won gold, too. They got celebratory chicken afterward, any doubt completely washed over by the feeling of victory and the promise of too-saucy chicken. 

There is no way to prove, empirically, that anyone is your soulmate. Seokmin and Hansol don’t try. They just are. Like the wave is drawn by the moon, and the sunflower faces the sun, sure and right — they _are_.

* * *

**_February 18 — Seokmin’s 19th / Hansol’s 18th_ **

Some time ago, they would have supposed they were some version of a “perfect match.” After all, they had the same birthday: February 18. Same height: 179 cm. Same shoe size: 280mm. Same taste in movies: Harry Potter all the way. 

But then Hansol grew taller than Seokmin over the years — an inch or an inch and a half of difference that Seokmin had noted too observantly. Not to mention Seokmin noticed that the very last time he’d tried to borrow Hansol’s Nikes, the shoes had been too tight on Seokmin’s feet. And Hansol seemingly outgrew Harry fucking Potter, having read all the books and binged all the movies in the Lord of the Rings series. It was a real shame, too, because Seokmin had already gotten them matching Gryffindor scarves and couldn’t, for the life of him, go through one paragraph of The Fellowship of the Ring. They didn’t even celebrate their supposedly same-day birthday on the same day anymore, what with the timezones and all. 

So maybe they _weren’t_ soulmates. Which was fine, of course. They didn’t need to be. Never did.

After they graduated high school, Hansol moved back to New York for university, while Seokmin stayed in Seoul. The two videocalled over the span of two days to greet each other — Seokmin’s birthday came first, ahead of Hansol’s by around 14 hours. The celebrations were separate now, which felt _new_ to them the very first time they didn’t partition the one cake or get matching ones. Their first birthday apart saw Seokmin doing karaoke with a bunch of his theater org friends, loud and rowdy, and Hansol on a sleepy trip to Niagara Falls with his dorm roommate. 

Yet, even with the distance, there were fragments of each other that they subconsciously willed to linger wherever they were. Like how Soonyoung drunkenly rapped to 2NE1, and all Seokmin could picture was the ridiculous, dramatic way Hansol would absolutely crush CL’s verse. Or how Hansol finished off the cold slices of drive-thru pizza his roommate Hyunggu had scrunched his nose at, thinking about how Seokmin would still have been excited to devour them even in their sorry state.

 _Night!!!!!!!!!!! Sleep well ♡~♡_ — Seokmin messaged him when he’d awoken the bright Seoul morning after.

 _good morning ^^_ _rise n shine!!_ — Hansol had replied within a minute, the screen of his phone setting light to his face in the night’s darkness.

* * *

**_February 18 — Seokmin’s 25th / Hansol’s 24th_ **

When Hansol got his degree in sound engineering, he took a one-way ticket flight back home to Korea. He started looking for studios to work at in Seoul, rather than taking up one of his professors’ suggestions to pursue a Master’s right after. Strike while it’s hot, people tended to say. See, he’d been itching with this new-found inspiration he wished would never go away. So, he did the only thing he knew he could — he chased it down to its source. 

Back in Seoul, Hansol and Seokmin got their own apartments. Their buildings were not far from one another’s. It was a _very_ walkable distance and you best bet that these reunited best friends walked that fucking distance. 

It was a coincidence, actually. Seokmin knew Hansol was coming back, of course. He was involved in Hansol’s whole thought process throughout the years. Had been there, and even supportive, when Hansol first entertained the prospect of staying abroad a little longer. What he didn’t expect was that they’d end up renting places so close to each other when he’d returned. Hansol never thought to ask, and Seokmin never thought to check. 

Seokmin was the one who picked Hansol up from the airport. Hansol dictated the address on his printed lease as they drove back into Seoul, and Seokmin’s eyes had gone comically large behind the wheel. “That’s literally a block away from me,” he said, cracking up. “Meant to be. As usual.” Moments like these called for Hansol to laugh, too. But he didn’t. He just smiled at Seokmin quietly — almost even solemnly — like he _knew_ Seokmin was only half-joking.

Since then, the two had been a little too busy with settling in and kickstarting a career to have the time or temperance for parties. Or maybe that was just an excuse. Because at the end of the 18th, Hansol had crashed Seokmin’s, equipped with bottles of beer.

Other friends joked that being over at Seokmin’s was a little bit like being at a restaurant — except free, and complete with the Lee Seokmin experience, so automatically ten times better. The man loved to cook honest-to-god _real_ meals. Delicious, substantial. Beats instant ramyeon, anyway. It was always a feast to Hansol. Seokmin would watch him go to town on the home-cooked stew with such an affectionate look on his face. 

“Starting to think you’re using me,” Seokmin had said, even though he was already fixing him up another serving. “Is that why you’re always over?”

“No, never,” Hansol replied, cheeks pink. The alcohol cast its glow on his face.

Seokmin kept staring at him with cloying eyes, though, as if to coax a more satisfying answer out of Hansol.

“Love you, hyung. Wanted to see you.” Hansol finally gave in to Seokmin’s whims with spectacularly little resistance. Hardly ever did he resist Seokmin. It was exactly what Seokmin was waiting to hear. And Hansol was a lot stingier with words like those than Seokmin was — anyone who knew these two would know this. That was why Seokmin could not tame the dumb grin on his face when Hansol let him have them.

They spent the night like that on Seokmin’s apartment floor, the manic chatter of the television clashing with the relaxed tune Hansol was playing on his phone.

“Look at us,” sighed Seokmin. “Watching outdated comedy shows and drinking beer at home. _Ahjussis_.” 

It was an exaggeration, for sure, as well as a complaint made in irony more than anything else. They felt like they were entering adulthood “for real” this time, with them working and living alone. And yet, every day felt like they were just kids pretending to be adults, trying to make out the vague outline of life behind a million screen doors. They were neither here nor there. It was an abstract time of feeling things out, seemingly forever, because (as they’ve yet to learn) it _does_ stretch on to forever. 

Hansol pushed at Seokmin’s shoulder, wheezing, ever the physical laugher. With this many bottles in, Seokmin no longer had fine control of his body. The consequence was him toppling over, taking Hansol down with him as collateral. They laughed, drank, kissed, and — to themselves — picked out which memories of the night to keep, and which to forget.

* * *

**_February 18 — Seokmin’s 28th / Hansol’s 27th_ **

It was not as if each other was all they had. 

Seokmin and Hansol have spent birthdays with other people too. They were well-liked by their peers, and they have had their fair share of relationships. And, when all is said and done, a birthday is just a _day_. Still, like heavenly bodies and their satellites, they were never too far from each other’s orbit. They were present during the motions and in the aftermath. And it was always the _oddest_ , most coincidental circumstances. 

Seokmin’s longest relationship, by far, was with Jeonghan. He was an upperclassman at his university, who they — over one enlightening Chuseok video call — quickly learned was a Choi family friend. There was also Seungkwan, Hansol’s first boyfriend, who used to be in the same choir as Seokmin in his youth. When Hansol had (re-)introduced them, he’d been sandwiched between two bursts of energy in human form.

Seokmin and Hansol also both dated Minghao at different times of their lives. This situation they found themselves should simply scream _awkward,_ but it was not at all as awkward as one would expect it to be. Hansol had a knack for being able to remain friends after break-ups, after all, and Seokmin is… Well, sometimes friendship was possible for him, and other times, he was just good at being civil. 

Seokmin was the type to cry after every relationship of his ends, even if they’d ended up on good terms after the fact, or even if they weren’t together all that long. Hansol would be cheering Seokmin up, mint chocolate ice cream tubs in tow, Matrix rewatch due, attentive eyes turned to him entirely. Hansol would let Seokmin cuddle into his side and soak his chest until he calmed down from the sobbing, with next to nothing but puffy eyes as evidence of his heartbreak (usually for perhaps five hours until he started remembering again. Rinse and repeat.)

That _certainly_ wasn’t the case for Hansol. He had not cried about anyone, really. He’d once admitted, with a zen-like class of nonchalance, that he hadn’t recalled crying since he was “like, ten, or something.” And that stayed true for quite some time. 

Now, Hansol has only ever cried about one person in his life. And the sight, Seokmin remembered vividly, was heartbreaking, novel, and — just wrong wrongwrong _wrong_. 

Minghao broke up with Hansol sometime before he flew back to China, and it took an entire week before Hansol showed any signs that he registered anything even happened. 

Hansol let Seokmin in the studio one time during his break. Seokmin wasn’t even sure what it was about what Hansol had been mixing at the time that did it in for him, but in the middle of it all, he finally allowed himself to feel all that he felt about Minghao’s leaving. Seokmin ran a soothing hand up and down Hansol’s back, easing Hansol’s head onto his shoulder. Hansol cried over Minghao, who had cried over Seokmin some years before. Which is, without a doubt, a weird connection to make. 

It was just so close. It was an _awful_ way to think, he knew, but Hansol could be crying about him instead. Which he _didn’t_ want. To hurt Hansol in any way was the _last_ thing Seokmin would ever want. Yet, Hansol feeling like he lost him seemed to Seokmin to be the closest way Hansol would feel to loving him in that way. And that—

That was just it, wasn’t it?

A lightning rod to his chest. Seokmin felt like he couldn’t breathe. But he wouldn’t acknowledge the realization. He didn’t.

Not until Hansol was napping on his couch one day, spent from a whole day of working. He’d gone straight to Seokmin’s then, as if he didn’t have his own home. Initially, they thought of catching whatever blockbuster was showing at the time. Hansol came over to follow up on that and to do the typical birthday stuff, but was evidently too tired, if the sleeping lump of mass on Seokmin’s couch was any indication. 

They might just celebrate when Hansol had woken up at 4 am and it was no longer the 18th. For now, Seokmin let him be in slumber. Sitting next to Hansol’s sleeping form, and a little dazed from his dress rehearsals himself, Seokmin was barely aware he’d been mumbling aloud.

_I could be in love with you._

Seokmin yawned, squeezing into the space next to Hansol, just about ready to doze off too. 

_I think I already am._

* * *

**_February 18 — Seokmin’s 33rd / Hansol’s 32nd_ **

It has been a long while since they were in the business of counting down the hours until the clock struck 12. Their years apart in college had done a swell job of shattering the naive trust they put into time. Time was not theirs. It never has been. And that was okay.

Seokmin and Hansol grew up, meeting little moments of reorientation like this with not too much of a fight. Soulmates are not real. Time is not ours. It’s up to us. It’s not up to us. Each revelation met not so much as a bang, but more of a simmer.

“Oh, it’s three.” Hansol took a look at his wristwatch. Time has passed. They weren’t aware it’d been that long. 

“Ahjussis for real this time,” he joked. An obvious exaggeration yet again. They were in their 30s, not a local Bingo club.

Seokmin was sitting on a creaky swing in his childhood home’s backyard. His legs had gotten too long since then, the heels of his dress shoes digging into dirt as he swayed. Hansol stood over him, the starry night just the perfect nostalgic backdrop. The bags under his eyes were a little deeper than Seokmin remembered. Everything was so familiar and so different all at once. Time has passed.

“Happy birthday!” Seokmin announced into the empty yard. 

Hansol laughed. “Happy birthday!” 

The two had finished tagging along during a day of oculars, rehearsals, and fitting for Seokmin’s sister’s wedding, and had eventually splintered from the rest of the family to while the hours away in an old neighborhood, reminiscing a time where everything seemed way bigger than they really were.

“Didn’t you want to get married by your 20s?” Hansol had asked. 

Seokmin turned the slightest bit red, taken aback by a memory he himself had forgotten. He loosened his bowtie, sputtering. “Did I say that?” 

“You did. Once.” _I remember everything._

“Well, I changed my mind.”

“You must change your mind a lot, huh.” Hansol hummed. “Change your mind about me?”

Seokmin furrowed his brows, planting his feet flat so he’d buffer the swing. “What _about_ you?”

Hansol tipped his head down then, hands in his slacks pockets and kicking at nothing but grass. He appeared a little unsure, which wasn’t something Seokmin has never seen before. Still, his heart became restless. 

“Remember years ago, when your schedule was filled as Charlie Price, and I was working for this new girl group… And I was always over at yours, ‘cause it was a more bearable commute from the studio anyway,” Hansol recalled. “There was that time I was falling asleep on your couch, right. A weekday. In the middle of the day, too. We were supposed to go see a movie.” Hansol looked back up, meeting Seokmin’s eyes. _I remember everything._

Seokmin stilled in realization. 

He thought about how his sister had teared up as she told him she couldn’t imagine a life without her now husband-to-be, how Minghao’s letter to Seokmin years after they ended it described his life in a house by the sea with the love of his life, how the rings on his parents’ fingers were twenty years strong, and how every time and in every situation, imagined or otherwise, for him, it was _Hansol._ Always Hansol.

“Have you changed your mind?” Hansol asked again.

“No, never.” 

Seokmin was about to break down in tears, feeling like he’d just turned twelve and ridden a scary roller coaster, and not like he’d turned 33, confronting love for what felt like the first time. You could see it in his eyes. Hansol’s laughter, in contrast, bubbled, fondness overcoming him at once.

Seokmin was never running from it so much as he was delicately skirting around it the best he can. And — he realized as Hansol rested a cheek on top of his head along with the release of an unburdened sigh — they both were. 

“Are you gonna say it?” Hansol teased. He peeked to see that Seokmin’s eyes were very wet, looking like his throat may not be up to task in terms of _speaking_ at all. “ _Can_ you?” 

Seokmin’s silence prompted Hansol. “Should I?”

“Say it if you want to.” Seokmin was childishly impatient about it. The only thing missing was a little _hmph_. But it wasn’t just him. They both were childish about it. Clueless. Floundering. Just two kids learning the ways of life still, as everyone is.

Hansol gently placed his arms on Seokmin’s shoulders, a loose embrace, and mouthed the three words at him. 

Seokmin shook his head. “It doesn’t count.” 

“I’m just teasing you,” chuckled Hansol. He bent down to press a kiss on Seokmin’s lips, long overdue. _It’s always been you._

“I love you, Seokmin hyung.” The look in Hansol’s big eyes as he uttered it was so painfully sincere it made Seokmin’s chest ache. “In all the ways.”

“Me too.” Seokmin couldn’t take it, lest he truly started crying. He threw his arms around Hansol’s middle, pulling him in a hug so tight he was _definitely_ creasing his neat new suit. It was fine; his sister’s wedding wasn’t until March anyway. “I love you in all the ways.”

* * *

**_Forever — Seokmin & Hansol _ **

There were some things that needed work. Like how both of them would forget to put away delivery boxes blocking the entryway. And how their “negotiations” to reach a “compromise” end in situations like a hypoallergenic cat _and_ a hypoallergenic dog both roaming their shared house happily. But they got some things right. The rings on their fingers — though promise rings, for now — were a testament to that. 

Ultimately, no one is made for another. The coincidences never mattered until they decided they did. And in the absence of a path to each other, they forged it — sometimes with ease, and sometimes painstakingly, exhausting every last bit of endurance from their beings.

You are not made for each other — not really. Not in the ways you would envision. You _choose_ each other.

Sometimes, that’s all there is.

And Seokmin and Hansol choose each other every time.


End file.
